


All Is Not Golden

by loadedcasserole



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-11-02 11:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20724680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loadedcasserole/pseuds/loadedcasserole
Summary: The Golden Age was the fertile ground from which modern Cybertron grew. It was a time of progress, innovation, and peace, but it was not without its own troubles.Primus made a mistake, and they all suffer for it.





	All Is Not Golden

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while listening to the Interstellar soundtrack, so if you fancy mood music, head on over. You can probably also blame the work [to come to daylight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16308407) for spurring this on. Made me really want to do a Golden Age fic of my own.
> 
> Also, here's the panel of the God War flashback, since it's probably been a while since you've gazed upon these marvelous dorks. [Behold!](https://tfwiki.net/wiki/File:LL-23-GuidingHandWar.jpg)

Mortilus stepped out of bed to greet a quiet morning.

He wasn't opposed to it. Mortilus was very much one who enjoyed silence and solitude. It helped him get a great deal of work done. Today had been different though. The whole week had, and when he awoke, he hadn't expected the cushions beside him to be cold.

He searched the home while still shaking off the final dregs of sleep. He was to the west, Mortilus thought, and so he went to the study. 

No one.

The pool then.

Nothing.

He exited out of a nearby door and snaked through the crystal garden. He was tempted to dally and examine how the shards he had sowed here vorns ago were doing, but he pressed on, until he at last reached the end and caught an unhindered view of the horizon. The ground here was particularly reflective, serving as a fine backdrop and magnifier for the garden’s own luminescence, and had Mortilus not been looking for a particular shade of orange, he might have missed the mech couching in the distance. The brightest point in a sea of light.

Mortilus walked over slowly and savored the feel of the earth beneath his pedes. It was warm. It had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with its own natural, internal heat. There weren’t many places like this on Cybertron. It was for this very reason that the home was located here. He sat beside the other.

Primus had made something.

"You don't think it's too early for this?" he asked.

Primus absently pawed at the thin layer of silt around them, guiding trace elements to an embedded spark, with a level of skill, and an eye for detail that Mortilus could never hope to achieve. It wasn't a necessity to do so. The spark would, almost certainly, develop into a healthy protoform. The extra attention, however, would speed it generation, strengthen the traits it did have, and give it slightly more resistance to wear in the long run. 

"No. This can't wait," he said softly.

"Just the one?" Mortilus glanced aside to be sure, and indeed there were no more budding sparks. Just the natural minerals catching the sun's rays.

Primus nodded. "This one is special."

Mortilus smiled in humour. They were all special to Primus. And in truth, they were all terribly special to him too. "How so?" he indulged him.

"I took my self-doubt and gave it form," he said, as though it were a very simple thing.

Mortilus leaned over the spark, in keen interest. This was new. Maybe even alarming. "This was not part of the design."

"Plans change."

"You have done this in haste," he chided. "You should have at least consulted everyone. Or someone. Anyone." Mortilus looked pointedly. He had been there the whole time.

Primus grimaced. He looked surreptitiously at Mortilus and braced a leg against the earth. He was preparing for a confrontation. "Do you disapprove then?"

Mortilus leaned back languidly—a call for peace. Primus was remembering when Mortilus had trimmed the last hot spot. 

There were often more sparks than originally planned, their method for creation wasn’t precise, but at that time there had been masses more. Far too many. Unhindered creation would have robbed the land’s ability to create for what could be millions of years, and they hadn’t the infrastructure for it anyway. It was unacceptable, and so Mortilus had ensured that a better number emerged, and that each made their journey back safely. Even after all that, it had taken ages for the cities to successfully raise and absorb the final number.

Primus understood the necessity of it, but that didn’t make him happy about it. If Primus truly found Mortilus’s views wrong, then he was entirely ready to defend his case. Physically, if need be.

He looked at the spark once more, with a new eye for its details. It was somewhat bigger than average, and in place of lazy filaments of energy running through it, there was a storm of activity. He didn't disapprove. Yet. It was too early. Unfortunately, by the time he had given it the amount of thought it warranted, the spark would be fully grown.

"I don't know. It seems unwise though. Self-doubt is a part of self-reflection." He straightened up at the thought and moved closer to Primus. Primus fell back and leaned away from the sudden proximity. "Are you now capable of any of that?” That was terribly important to know. Without self-reflection, one crippled a conscience, and a sense of understanding oneself. It could lead to an awful, cruel existence. He and Primus could often work past their differences, but Mortilus would have a hard time sharing space with that sort of fool.

“Yes, of course.”

“Are you _ sure _?”

Primus adjusted his glasses. “ . . . I do believe so, yes.”

Mortilus fell back in retreat. He believed him. It would be best to have Primus check in with the others to be sure though. Epistemus and Solomus could determine better than he.

“I wasn’t aiming to separate all of it anyway. Just enough for me to act more soundly, and effectively. Like with us. It’s worked so far, hasn’t it?”

“That was then, this is now. This is _ different _. We are not here due to a single thought in mind. We are not here to simply shunt a part of yourself aside.”

“Who said I was placing it aside?” Primus asked. “He will be with us. He will be . . . an advisor of sorts. You help in ways I cannot do myself and hold me in check when I push too far. This one will do the same in a different way. Self-doubt does have its uses, yes, and by doing it this way, I can give it a clearer voice, but more importantly, more intelligence and reasoning to back it. Doubt becoming careful scrutiny.”

Mortilus hummed a slow sound, conveying his own uncertainty. It was his own simple feeling though, with not as much thought behind it as what Primus had been giving his own. He did think that Primus had a point. Divvying up the work had done them all good. He would have to think more on it later. He had another concern to contend with. “This is because of the flood, isn’t it?”

Primus held himself loosely, but did not answer.

“You acted the best you could with what you knew,” Mortilus said, a repeat of what he had said the night prior, and the morning before, and with each movement of the sun and moons. He bubbled out whispered reasoning so much that Mortilus thought of himself as a flood as well.

“I didn’t. I changed my mind on a topic, that I knew I was more knowledgeable on than anyone else, and a whole generation is gone because of it.”

Weeks prior, Primus had intended to change a potential hotspot to a safer, less fertile and less accessible area, because he had thought better of allowing his garden of treasures to stay in the shadow of a high lake. Epistemus had convinced him that it was all unnecessary, and that a scant few weeks of growth couldn’t possibly fall into the same pace as a nearly unheard of occurrence.

They were proved wrong. The flood had taken the sparks, the surveyors, the blacksmiths, festival organizers, pilgrims, and nearby supply chains. The acid in the lake, mild though it was, was just enough to set off energon stores and only compounded the problems. It had taken Mortilus the entire day to find where Primus had been swept to and walking through those desolate fields had weighed heavily on him. Every day, the number of missing and dead grew. 

Mortilus leaned on him and twined their digits together. “Those sparks are gone, Mortilus. They won’t return, and there won’t ever be anyone like them again.” Mortilus hummed again. The sparks had been too young, and their energies too scattered to make their rightful journey back. It was a complete loss. He felt it keenly as well.

“This can’t happen again,” Primus said with an edge of determination. He was only capable of losing so much, so many times, before Primus too, at the edge of eons to come, succumbed to death. He—they, were much, but not infinite.

“It will,” Mortilus said. “But it is not the end of all things. I do think that this will become a rarity in the future.”

There was nothing said to that. Primus dipped his head and laid it in the crook of his neck. 

They sat and idly watched the progress of the spark. It was peaceful and they didn’t seek to move even as the heat of the ground and sun turned their vigil into mild discomfort. If anything, it turned them more lethargic, until they simply laid down and drifted somewhere between rest and lucidity. Mortilus thought that he would be very content to do this more often.

He murmured. “Tell me more about this mech of yours.”

“Hm?” Primus turned his way. He smiled lazily. “He’s going to be so very smart.”

“As smart as Epistemus?”

“No one will ever be like Epistemus. He won’t really be like us at all, but I imagine that Epistemus will get a surprise if he isn’t careful. And . . . I think this one might have a bit of a temper.”

Mortilus recalled the storm of energy inside and glanced over to check its progress. Yes, still churning about in its ways. “Joy,” he said flatly.

~|~

The next morning, the others arrived. The door slammed open in their haste. They had so many questions! Adaptus was the most excited of the three. He found Primus’s actions to be novel, while the other two fell into careful thought. They didn’t approve of such a drastic change without their input. Epistemus and Solomus took Primus into the next room to find out how much the divide had affected him. Their concerns were similar to his own. Mortilus was set to follow, but Adaptus pulled him aside for questions of his own.

“How is he? Really?” Adaptus asked.

Mortilus thought to the restless nights, the fretful clutching above his spark, the disinterest for all things that had only improved when the new spark came into being. “He is mourning.”

“Ah. Still? I am surprised. He was not so troubled with the last culling, and the ones before.”

“That was necessary, and he recognizes that, and has made peace with it. This is an unexpected loss, and one that’s much different than the rest.” Mortilus explained.

Adaptus nodded, maybe not with understanding, but acknowledgement. “Has he said when the next will arrive?”

“He’s not decided yet. Probably not anytime soon.”

“Well, it’s not all bad,” Adaptus reasoned, “It will give the cities more time to prepare for an even bigger welcome. And I'll have some incredible designs finished by then.” Mortilus dipped his head in agreement. If there were a silver lining, they would have to settle for that.

"I think you should wait before discussing it with him," he warned. He thankfully didn’t have to argue the case, Adaptus saw the reasoning to it.

They idled for a while longer. It had been ages since they had a chance to really talk, but it wasn’t long before Mortilus decided that he wanted to check in with the others. He got up from his chair and drew close to the door. He may as well have stayed seated because they were already finished. Primus walked past him, his brow low, and was outside before Mortilus had a chance to ask how it went.

Solomus and Epistemus exited, arguing all the while. He interrupted them. “What happened?”

“Epistemus called him a moron.” Solomus said. Epistemus looked at him with disdain, and then with apprehension at Mortilus’s stony face.

“I did not! When did I say that?! Tell me.”

“Fine, fine,” Solomus sighed, “He told him that he had foolishly acted on mere emotions and he was being borderline moronic. You may have _ brains _ Epistemus, but you lack _ tact _.”

Mortilus should have never let Primus out of his sight. He exvented slowly. "What have you found?" 

"He'll be fine," Solomus said. "More decisive, yes. He might get bull-headed though—we'll have to watch for that. It wasn't a whole extraction, so it's not nearly as extreme as it could have been."

Epistemus shook his head. "I honestly don't see the point if it wasn't going to be a clean break."

"What's done is done," Adaptus said with an eager rub of his servos. "Now, let's go meet this almost-brother of ours."

They gave Primus a moment longer at Mortilus's insistence. They wouldn't have to wait long. Primus held onto offense like water in a slotted spoon. He was only slightly more susceptible to it now because of the divide and subsequent fatigue.

They left the building to the plain beyond. Primus waited there and he did seem to be in better spirits. He grinned as they came near. The spark had grown to its protoform stage, and if Primus’s attention did not wane, it would be fully realized by tomorrow. No time at all.

"So this is him?" Adaptus crouched and pulled out a few tools. He took some measurements. He tried to poke them into the protoform itself for better accuracy and earned a firm hand-smack for his trouble. “I’ve always liked this design, the AC89, but it’s not very practical is it? Not unless you just want to grab something off a high shelf. But I really like this concept. I wish I could pack things up and send them off as I please.”

Primus took off his glasses to give him a sad, concerned look. “What would you take away, if that were the case?”

“Mmm, I don’t know really. I think I’d just like to have the option. But I was thinking that it would be handy for other mechs. I have a friend who is outrageously afraid of small spaces-he was trapped in a cave for several weeks and it got to him. If he could abandon his fear, he wouldn’t be so nervous all the time. It would be a good thing,” he looked up at Primus, hoping to sell the idea.

Primus hummed. “It could help, in that case, but I don’t think it would be good overall. Fear is there for a reason.”

Adaptus clicked his denta, unsatisfied. He would no doubt come back to the topic later, when he had the chance to stockpile more ideas, or hammer out a better argument.

Solomus sat down next to Primus with a low groan. He didn’t have much love for the ground. “We ought to discuss how to do this. You say he will have to be educated?”

“Oh yes. He won’t have any memories from me.”

Epistemus stuck out his chassis. “He will attend the best school available then,” he offered. If it was as a way of apologizing for his earlier slight or out of pride for his jewel academy, Mortilus wasn’t sure.

“Thank you, Epistemus.”

“I don’t think he should stay here at all,” Solomus added. 

Primus frowned. Despite his refusal to make more sparks, he had warmed to the thought of another mech to raise. It had been a while since he had personally done so. “And why not? He needs someone.”

“Yes, but it doesn't need to be _ you _. There should be distance if you want him to be unbiased to your actions. Let the nurseries handle him, that's what they're for.” Solomus said. “In fact, there is a lot of insight to be gained if he is raised as a regular mech.”

Primus froze. “ . . . He can understand the world better than what we are capable of,” he whispered, already sold. 

It was very hard for them to get a gauge on the lives of mechs these days. They tried their best, but it had been much easier when the population was below ten thousand and they interacted with mechs of every sort and status. Now there were so many things going on, with so many different people, it was hard to catch up. They couldn’t exactly blend into a crowd either, which only furthered the distance. “Yes, this is better than what I had planned. He’ll be wonderful!”

Solomus clapped, joyous. “It’s decided then. When will he be ready?”

“Tomorrow.” 

“What is his name?” Epistemus asked while pulling out a datapad for the needed forms.

Primus leaned over to help move a drooping finial back into place. He had an expression of pure mush. The protoform stage was his favorite. “He’s different, so it’ll be different. I’ve named him Froid,” he said.

~|~

It was earlier than Mortilus thought it would be. Somewhere still in darkness, between night and morning, the new mech stirred. He had been doing that throughout the night, his systems autonomously testing for responses and recalibrating with each outcome. Now, it was more purposeful. Mortilus thought he would have held until dawn at least.

Primus was by Froid’s side, just as he had been cycles before when Mortilus had finally succumbed and dozed on the ground, and just as he’d done the night before. Everyone else was inside, resting up after a celebratory drink had turned into hard chugs. Solomus was not known to imbibe, but last night he had earned a new nickname, and by tomorrow afternoon the city would know him as Solomus the Sick.

Mortilus shuffled over to investigate. “Should I call for the transport?”

“Yes,” Primus said as he lifted and turned a pede over with a rag, clearing away the loose dirt that tried to entrap itself in the metal. Most people had to wait until their bodies naturally incorporated the extra material, but Primus saw no reason for it to stay. He had ensured that the mech had absorbed plenty enough minerals. "And wake Adaptus. He wanted to see him before he's gone."

He called the transport easily, but hailing Adaptus was harder. Mortilus disappeared into the building and reappeared with Adaptus leaning heavily on him.

"Ooh I shouldn't have done that." Adaptus said as he slowly remembered how to regulate his energon. His sad hobble turned into a purposeful gait. "How is he?"

"He's well. He's awake. He just hasn't figured out how to open his optics yet." Primus tapped between Froid's optics to help him out and they fluttered open wildly, whizzing back and forth. Froid’s head turned to each of them, doing his best to make sense of the new stimulus. They all grinned. Cute.

Primus played with each of his jerking limbs and poked into crevices for minor adjustments. Adaptus brought out some devices to take some spark readings, humming all the while. Froid was somewhere between being overwhelmed and delighted at the attention. When he was flipped over for more examination, he chirred loudly. Primus laughed. Mortilus’s spark swelled at the joyous sounds around him.

Froid didn’t stay with them for long. His optics soon offlined and he entered into a reboot. He wouldn’t remember them, and he would have to do that several times more before the process would cease entirely. It was for the best. The transport hands had arrived, and he could peacefully spend most of his journey in his own head.

When the transport disappeared down the road and Adaptus left to return inside, Primus turned to him, looking drawn. “Thank you, for being here,” he said, as he slipped his hand into Mortilus’s. 

Mortilus had the impression that Primus was saying good-bye. He would be expecting it, Mortilus always left at some point. He liked Primus just fine. More than fine really, but he liked his space too, and their lifestyles just didn’t quite match up. Primus enjoyed too many people under his roof and Mortilus did not. The space was good, he thought. Should he wish for more, he only had to visit.

“Of course,” he said. He preferred the quiet, but it had been so long since they had all been under one roof. He would stay for a while longer.

~|~

On an otherwise unspectacular day, Mortilus received a call. It was Primus. He hastily lowered his paintbrushes to their cleaning bowl and swirled the mess of blues and oranges until they became murky brown. Talk about timing.

“Hello Mortilus. How has the week been for you?”

“It’s been well,” he stood and answered warmly. It was time for a break anyway. “I finished the designs for the new park. How have you been?”

“Well . . .,” Primus trailed off. “I had a visitor today.”

“Who?”

“You remember Froid? He came by.”

How could he have forgotten? It wasn't that long ago. Was it? He walked over to his fireplace as he mentally checked his calendar. He was mortified at the result. How the years flew by. Mortilus thought for a moment. Things didn’t add up. “He couldn't have graduated yet. Why did he come all the way there?”

“He hasn’t, but he was on a trip and he thought it prudent to give me a piece of his mind while he was in town. He dodged the knights and climbed the fence, and wouldn’t stop knocking at the door until I answered. He’s very tenacious.” Mortilus blinked. That did make for an interesting day.

“What did he say?”

“Well, he started to tell me something, but when I offered him candy he got mad and I didn’t catch half of it—he thought I was being patronizing, doing that. He was upset about recycling, I think. He's unsatisfied with his frame, he was sure to tell me that much. And he thinks I should unbirth Epistemus for being a useless library of trivia, and to really just start all over.”

Mortilus stared at the fire so long that he thought it might burn out his optics. “ . . . What did you say to that?”

“I told him that he had a lot of thoughts and that he could present them in a better way, and that I would listen. I scheduled a day for him to meet us. It will be a week after his graduation—which will be soon. He’s graduating early.”

“We were going to do all that anyway.”

“Yes, but he’s feeling very accomplished right now, and I didn’t want to rob him of that.”

"Do you . . . still think you made the right choice?” Mortilus had, so far, considered the action to be overall positive, if subtle. Primus did not ask for his opinions on work as frequently, and instead spoke of more personal matters. He was more open with Mortilus. He visited more often and their visits were of a more intense flavor. Mortilus didn't know what had been holding Primus back before, but he was not sorry for the change. Mortilus hoped that Froid's reinstatement in Primus's life didn't jar that.

“Oh yes. He’s very spirited. I didn’t expect him to take much interest in the others, but it’s a good thing. I can’t wait to find out what else he has to say.”

~|~

The day came in a blink. The five of them gathered in a conference room, at Epistemus’s academy, as they waited. Most of them were not expecting useful input, but today was not so much about that as it was to welcome Froid into their official staff. He didn’t know that, of course. Primus had thought to surprise him. A graduation gift, if he chose to accept it. Epistemus was disgusted by it, and nearly hadn't shown, but had a late change in opinion.

"I'll give _ him _ a piece of my mind," Epistemus declared. "For too long he's been tracking me down, climbing my _ windows, _ and telling me his thoughts. I’ll turn the tables on him. See how _ he _likes it." He turned to Primus. "It's your fault, you know. You've encouraged him."

Solomus leaned back comfortably in his seat with his warm energon. "You're welcome to do so after he's done, but don't go interrupting him. I don't want this to devolve into a shouting match when we all have so little time."

Epistemus huffed and laid his head in his palm. He waved at them flippantly. "Easy for you to say. You'll see." They huddled tensely. They had been hearing the stories ever since Froid had enrolled. Primus was the only one among them who did not feel an iota of apprehension.

They didn't wait long. One of the knights outside opened the door to allow their honored speaker in. Froid entered, carrying a stack of datapads. He surveyed the room, but did not announce himself.

Solomus stood. "Welcome Froid. We hope your day has been well. Congratulations on your graduation."

Froid tilted his head. He straightened himself a little higher and stepped forward. Most would be nervous in the face of all of them in a room together, but he didn't appear shaken by them in the slightest. Merely assessing. "Thank you. I'm surprised that you're all here."

"Why wouldn't we be?" Solomus asked.

"Because, all of you are too busy to play audience to a new, inexperienced graduate,” he said simply. “Or will you tell me I'm wrong?"

Epistemus looked like he was going to say something, but Solomus beat him to it before matters got complicated. "We _ are _busy, but Primus made the request and so here we are. To be honest, I am curious on what you have to say. He tells me that you have some interesting thoughts."

Froid clicked in dismissal. "If he actually told you that, then he's lying. I was young and an idiot when I yelled my undeveloped criticisms to him, and no reasonable person would take them seriously. Which makes me ask why. So why? I'm not surprised to see Primus here, but the rest of you have no real excuse."

Solomus floundered, and Epistemus mumbled something about this being _ his _ academy, which was true enough, but it was Adaptus that met Froid head on. "It's true, we have a lot to do and could have not come, but it's been so long since we last saw Epistemus. We thought seeing you would make a fine reason for the visit. As for myself, I quite liked the comments that Primus has shared with me. Epistemus _ should _be unbirthed."

"Hmm." Froid squinted with distrust. "Fine. I don't actually care who you’re here to humor or if you want some comedy show. The point is, you _ are _here and I’ll make the most of it."

“By all means,” Adaptus smiled and leaned back with a hand wave.

“You’d best go ahead and take whatever energon or vices you have, because I will be making full use of the little time I have, and I won’t tolerate breaks.”

They exchanged looks, save for Epistemus who only hung his head low in silent fury. Primus got up to procure some fresh energon, and Mortilus, reasoning that this might be his only chance for mobility for the duration, got up to follow him. “He’s very commanding.” Mortilus whispered.

“Mmhm,” Primus hummed as he dumped a boat-load of flavoring to his energon. He whispered back, as though sharing the secret to a recipe, “It’s the passion. It drives that and the anger. It does need something to spark it though. Something must have happened.”

“Hm.”

They returned to their seats with a tray in tow. They had hardly planted themselves when it began. Froid passed out a datapad to each of them. Primus flicked his open curiously and said with delight, “Oh! You’ve written a book!”

“No, I’ve written _ seven _ ,” Froid said, “Speaking today won’t do their contents justice, but as it’s so very hard to get mechs to read anything, I will do the best that I can. So first of all, before we can even begin to call this a productive day, I need you all to acknowledge that you’re idiots. Plain and simple.” Froid shot a digit to Solomus’s opening intake. “Ah! No. Hush. You’re all idiots. That is final. That is _ good. _ That is normal, even for all you’ve done. It’s to be expected, and damn any bigger idiot who thinks otherwise. You’re not perfect. Now-don’t shake your head at me-now, before I can tell you what you are doing wrong and offer possible solutions to your inherent sadness, I am going to tell you _ how _you are each broken and awful pieces to one great big idiot.”

And he did.

He went on and on. Nobody had thought it possible for someone to be raked over hot coals so thoroughly, but he did it to each and every one of them with an attention to detail that betrayed his overwhelming glee to be there today. He was having the time of his life.

Froid spent most of his attentions on Epistemus. He made wild accusations that Epistemus was a common thief and guilty of careless destruction of property. Froid proceeded to call him every name they had ever heard of for keeping a private study where he hoarded his secrets, and then, as though contradicting himself, called him bigger and more syllabic names for allowing sensitive information into the public eye. Solomus had to repeatedly get Epistemus to shut up for it, so that they could hurry up and get on with the rest. Everyone had the feeling that there might be a grudge between them somewhere.

Solomus was thrown through the wringer for being a fence sitter that hardly ever took a side, and was incapable of truly acting for justice because of it. Froid also didn’t think that Solomus had any proper cause for enacting laws for so long, when the newer generations should be taking over to replace his outdated sensibilities. Froid thought that the police that Solomus enacted was becoming corrupt, and that Solomus was turning a blind eye to it, so that his laws and leadership were not undermined. He then spent a helm-ache inducing amount of time going over the inane laws that Solomus had put into policy. Solomus took this with consideration and with a rub of his chin.

As for Adaptus, he didn’t do as much as everyone thought he did. Most of the advancements in technology had been done by other mechs, and any that he had managed, came from a shady background. He accused Adaptus of using his relation to Solomus as a means of dodging review boards and standard testing procedures, and said that he had an insufficient processor for thinking that he could get away with it. Adaptus tapped at the table with a frown the whole time.

Mortilus was just there. He didn't do much of anything except allow for the curse of death and take the benefits of what his status afforded him, and had Mortilus not been claimed by the others, Froid said that he would essentially be like any other mech. Froid said that he would only be too happy to revisit the topic once he found out more, that is, if Mortilus actually did anything noteworthy. All in all, Mortilus had the kindest treatment from Froid, and he took it as he did most things—silently.

Primus, Froid said, was a silly mech with too mild of manners. Primus also had terrible timing in creating new mechs, and questioned the reasoning behind having a stranglehold on their means of reproduction. He had made a terrible mistake in allowing all five of them to exist, and he let those in the room run wild. Worse, he actually did have the ability to manage those around him, he just chose not to. Primus, unlike the others, had no excuse for the way things were, because he had allowed for it in the first place. _ And _the nursery programs were hot slag. Primus took off his glasses and rubbed the heel of his servo into his optic.

“You’re each broken,” he said. “You’re illogical, highly flawed, and unreasonable, and therefore, unfit to _ guide _and to lead. I find it ridiculous that so many have gone along with it for so long, just because of your origin. In my opinion, you should take a step back and try letting society get on without you.”

“Is that your take?” Epistemus said, kicking Solomus’s chair so that he rolled to the far end of the room. “All this time you've had and all you’ve done is complain and whine and _ insult _ . Let’s list what _ you’ve _ done for society. How have _ you _contributed? If you think a passable grade and completing course assignments makes you anything but a drain on the system then you're wrong-"

Froid slammed his servos on the table and leaned forward. "I have a great big secret and I'm not ever telling you what it is."

"I- what?"

"A secret. The moment I found out about it, I knew I could never tell you."

Epistemus’s eye flared with interest. "What is it?"

"I just said I could never tell you. _ Don't you listen? _But that doesn't mean nobody can know." Froid bypassed him and walked over to Primus. He leaned down to whisper in his audial.

Primus frowned and gave him a look of disapproval. "I understand, but that is unkind,” he said.

Epistemus looked to Primus. "What did he say? What is it?"

Primus sighed and looked over to Froid. Froid hooked his arms behind his back and looked down on Epistemus. "He won't tell you either."

Epistemus stood up and with fury in his steps, made his way to Froid. “Then why even talk about it?! Tell me at once before I revoke your certification for this childish behavior!” 

He was intercepted by a disposable cup to the helm. Adaptus was the culprit. "You're being had Epistemus. He has no secret."

"What?!" He looked back to Primus for confirmation and Primus nodded.

Adaptus spoke to Froid, heedless of Epistemus's sputtering sentences. "I've played this game before. I find it tedious now."

"So you know that he cannot reason. Anyone else would have recognized that for what it was: common teasing, but he is incapable of understanding. Of learning this most basic of concepts. And what’s more, he cannot leave a single stone unturned—to the point of apathy and irrationality. If his searches lead him to places of immorality, he will cross them all to get at his prize. And he _ has _ done so. But it's not just him. He's just the easiest to rile up. You're all like this, and it makes you _ weak _."

"Everyone has quirks," Solomus said. “And if he’s done wrong because of them, then that matter will be dealt with, but it isn’t fair to say that a character flaw means that one is incapable or undeserving of leadership.”

Froid tilted his head up like he had spied a glint of gold in the mud. “And are you, so very deserving of leadership?”

“No.” Solomus said quickly. “The opposite really-But I dare you to find a perfect mech who is always reasonable, logical, morally sound, and capable to fulfill the tasks of each of our stations.”

“So, the lack of a perfect person means that _ you _must be the ones to fill the vacancies?”

“What _ is _your argument?”

Froid shot loudly, “You five have been leading the planet since its inception and seeing as that you’re not _ perfect _, I don’t see a reason for that to continue. You should just do as all the other gods in the universe do, and sit in the clouds.”

Primus hummed quietly as he stirred his drink. “Is this . . . a common sentiment?”

“ . . . Not as much as there should be so, but there are others of like mind.”

The five looked to one another with varying notes of disturbance. Primus said softly, “We never set out, intending for this to happen. I didn’t even want people to know what we were, just that we could help them if they needed a hand. I didn’t expect everyone to be so snoopy about it. Or the-ah, attention?” He looked embarrassed. He took his straw in his mouth and murmured around it. “I miss when my highest achievement was just being Number One. I got so many high fives.” Primus blew bubbles in his drink forlornly. Froid’s eye twitched at the childish display.

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem with going back into obscurity . . .”

Primus straightened and his glasses caught the glare of the outside light. “Thank you Froid.” Primus said. “I’d like to discuss this with everyone for a moment.”

“I _ said _no breaks!” Froid hissed.

Epistemus swiftly lurched to him and all but shoved him out the door. “You heard him. Why don’t you go shout at the undergraduates to pass the time?” He leaned against the door as soon as it shut. He pointed to Primus and quietly hissed, “I can’t believe that this is what’s been in you this whole time. It’s a monstrosity! No wonder you tried to get rid of it. You won’t be making more. If you try, mark my words, I will find a way to neuter you.”

Primus shifted in his seat with extreme discomfort and coughed. “Well. I don’t- I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“_ Good. _” He sat back down with weariness. “Can we go now?”

“No,” Solomus said. “We should discuss what you and Adaptus have been up to.”

Adaptus made a sucking noise with his denta, “Of course—after—but right now, I’m curious as to what Primus has to say.”

"All I wanted to say was that I think he has a point. He doesn’t know enough about us and how we work to make a full, accurate assessment, but so far, I don’t think he’s wrong. We didn't do this intending to lead forever. And if our guidance is causing discontent, then that's a problem." He gave Adaptus a rare, severe look. "But I don't like you dodging the question. What have you been doing? Why do you need to bypass review boards?"

"They're just too slow is all," he grumbled. "Sorry. I didn't- I admit, I didn't think it was so bad."

"I hope you won't mind if we take a look then."

"Not at all.” He grinned. “Maybe you'll have some suggestions for some of my work."

Primus nodded, satisfied, and looked to their host. "Epistemus."

He turned his head this way and that, before curling in on himself. "I've been breaking into people’s houses to take a look at their rarities, and sometimes I steal books that I've never seen. I also blew up that, to be noted, _ reportedly _empty building on 45th street because I was accused incapable of coming up with a mathematically sound way to demolish it safely. There had been no indication that it housed that much energon."

"You said you were on the other side of town!"

"I'm sorry! I panicked! If I could take it back, I would!"

They had a long minute composed of groaning and helm rubbing. That had been a memorable tragedy. What a mess.

At Primus’s tired glance, Solomus said, "I admit, I’ve not always made the ethically right decisions, but I genuinely think that it was for the betterment of all. Any of you are welcome to investigate and to judge. And . . . I think he has a point too. We _ are _idiots. That's why there's five of us, to play our strengths while keeping one another in check. Even so, it just doesn't feel right to abandon everyone. It sounds terrible, but I just don't feel that they're ready."

Primus rested his helm on his hand. "Maybe they won't ever be. It's been a long time already. We can strive for it, but there is no perfect society." He should know. He had done his research.

Mortilus spoke up for the first time—his an easily forgotten, but constant presence. "Most don’t leave willingly, but when there is absence there is room for growth. They would grow to be fine without us."

"That doesn't always happen," Epistemus said.

"They could harm themselves," Primus worried.

"They might take steps back," Adaptus warned.

Solomus snapped his digits and smiled. "So they can ask for help from a friend. We wouldn't have to disappear. Just a little distance, as Froid said. Perhaps with the option to seek us out should they err. Maybe not clouds—but we can think of a place. A time. And we could check in occasionally."

They paused in thoughtful silence. Not all of them were keen to the idea, they each had their own wants that would be hindered by such an extreme action, but it was something to consider.

The worry on Primus's brow began to recede. "I . . . suppose it doesn't sound so terrible . . . It might make work difficult though. And . . . " He hadn't made all this possible just to be isolated from everyone.

Adaptus cast his doubt. “Psh- for you and Mortilus? You two hardly need appear. The rest of us rely on interacting with people to do our jobs. Solomus would have it the worst. He wouldn’t have a thing to do and would set about making us completely miserable.”

“I wouldn’t! I could manage. I’ve been thinking of writing a history book, actually.”

Primus stood, "This is an interesting idea, but a big one. We should each think it over more and meet again to share our thoughts."

“I guess Froid was more than a comedy show after all,” Adaptus said, rising. “I don’t look forward to seeing more of him though. What’s the plan?”

“He should know more to be more effective,” Primus said and the room mumbled in discontent. Even Solomus and Mortilus cast uncertain eyes. Nobody could just warm to someone after being chewed out like that.

“How much more?” Epistemus asked, “Can I tell him that he’s an unwanted tumor?”

“Hush. No, and it’s not true. And don’t _ ever _tell him. He’ll get a complex. I think he should simply know more about what we are, how we work. It’ll give him more context to work with for better input.”

Mortilus shook himself and resolutely stood next to Primus. “You’re right. He has lost his purpose and his voice if he’s in the dark. And you mustn’t shut him out.”

Adaptus gave the floor to them. “Well, we’ll let you do the honors then.”

With that settled and sensing the opportunity for escape, Epistemus got up and walked to the door. Adaptus cupped his hands to his mouth and called to him, “Careful, he’s probably still out there.”

“Good.” Epistemus said and knocked it open. Froid, who had been chatting with the knights outside, whirled around in surprise. “Hey, Froid! I have a secret for you."

"_Epistemus! _"

"Oh goody," Froid said. "Well, you can keep your empty secrets with everything else in your empty head."

The light of Epistemus's eye brightened in glee. "Not empty- you see Froid-"

Primus stood. "Epi-"

"-You're a tumor."

Froid poked him in the chest, causing a nearby knight to bristle. "No, you're the cancer," Froid spat. Epistemus brushed him off in good humor and strode off, laughing. Froid looked to his receding back, and glanced at Primus, who had taken to pretending to stretch. Froid squinted. " . . . Call him back, we're not finished here."

Primus straightened and took off his glasses to clean them. “I’m sorry Froid, but we are. We did like what you had to say, and we are thinking about it, but there’s a lot to consider and just so much that you don’t know. I’d like it if you stayed with me so that I can share certain things with you.”

Froid’s optics nearly popped out of his helm. “With you? What- I mean, that’s pretty odd . . . can’t we just talk?”

“It’s going to take a lot of talking,” Primus said. “We’ll need to do a data transfer that’ll probably take a vorn to complete, give or take.”

“_A vorn?! _”

“Yes, you’ll have to have it if you want the job.”

“_Job? _What job?”

“To be my—our—advisor.”

Froid put his helm in his hands. “Oh, oh wow. I- are you serious?" Primus confirmed it, and after another round of disbelief, he confirmed it again. Primus went over to Froid to pat him on the shoulder. They thought he was overwhelmed because he would be working with the gods of the land, but it wasn't the case at all. "I have a job," he choked. "They said it would never happen."

~|~

On a beautiful, bright day, Mortilus received a call. It was from Primus. Mortilus placed his documents out-of-sight. He had spent plenty enough time today writing, and it wasn’t as if the biography had a time-limit on it.

“Mortilus . . .”

He leaned back and paused at Primus’s tone. “Hello Primus. You don’t sound happy.”

“Oh it's just-I've been thinking about things . . ."

Mortilus amended himself, Primus sounded miserable. "Like what?"

"I’ve been thinking . . . what if . . . what if Froid came and visited for a while? He’s been wanting to see the new exhibits.”

Mortilus spun his chair around and observed his home. There was a breeze passing through his window that delicately spun his wind chimes, and the sound carried easily throughout his sparse chambers. His fireplace blazed warmly. His seats laid empty. His neighbors—gone for the evening. It was perfect. “There are plenty of rooms available in the city.”

“He says that . . . he doesn’t want to be away from the subjects of his work. He will only go if he could stay with you.”

Mortilus got up and walked to his couch. It made for a comfortable resting place. He scooted it until it slid into the fireplace. It burned merrily. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t have room available right now.”

“Oh.” Primus paused for an extended period. Mortilus was about to change the subject when Primus finally said, “ . . . Would you care to come and watch the house then? I’m thinking of going somewhere.”

"Where?"

"I don't know. Just to travel. Somewhere far."

“Why do you want to travel?”

“To clear my thoughts.”

Mortilus thought the idea of being in Primus’s home alone did sound novel. Getting away from his regular stomping grounds wouldn’t be so bad either. He found the staff there bothersome, but surely it wouldn’t be for very long. Primus was too busy for an extended journey. “Are you going alone?”

“Yes.”

Alone in a house with Froid for company? Marvelous. “Sorry, I have too much business here. Speaking of, something’s come up. I’ll get back with you!” He hung up.

His words briefly echoed before silence befell him. It was familiar, but this time, it didn’t have the same comfort.

He felt a little bad. Mortilus liked being on his own, but he hadn’t realized how precious time alone with Primus had been until it had become impossible. When they visited one another, he spent most of his time speaking with Froid or the knights, and that was not right. Their private conversations were now minutes when they used to be hours. A comfortable embrace had become a brief indulgence. There were no overnight stays. It was mostly out of interruption after interruption, but there was a distance there that wasn’t there before. In fact, Primus kept his very spark closed off the majority of the time, and Mortilus didn’t have the tolerance to stay to find out why, or the ability to be pestersome about it.

Mortilus paced restlessly.

When would be the next time they laid under the stars together? Surely not forever. How long until the next opportunity, and could he wait for it?

He reconsidered. Primus had called him, after two silent weeks. He was trying to reach out. Mortilus just hadn't been listening because the topic was so undesirable. Was that what was happening?

Mortilus sorted through prior conversations they shared and thought that he might be onto something.

He went to his closet and searched through it. Blanket? Yes. Sweets? Of course. He put that and more into his subspace.

Traveling could be fun. He hadn't done it for leisure since he and the planet were very, very new. Upon reflection, those had been joyous times. He recalled their first moments, when they realized how interesting things looked from their new perspectives. The moment when he had slid into a swath of mud and how they had never laughed so hard. When Primus had been convinced of his knowledge of Cybertron’s topography and had fallen into a hidden cave system. The time when he was being chased by turbo-foxes, and the only solution was for a wildly yelling flash of orange to ward them off. And when the first hot-spot glowed and the light painted Primus in the most fascinating way.

He missed it.

Mortilus called Primus again. He received a noise of surprise and Mortilus was distantly very pleased to have caught Primus unawares.

"Mortilus! Are things alright?"

"Yes-and I thought about it, and I think I can find a place for Froid here. Go ahead and send him over right away, but you must promise me something."

"What is it?"

"Don't leave home, for anything, for at least three cycles more."

Primus was confused, but delighted, and he easily agreed. Mortilus opened his window and jumped out to the land beyond, his cloak billowing behind him. Mortilus would find him, and they would rest beneath the heavens again, even if he had to wrap them beneath his cloak to do it.

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended to be a fic on how Froid was used as a garbage disposal for all of the awful traits that Primus didn't like, but that seemed too mean. And I was going to make it so that no one knew exactly that they were gods, but I figured there was much more fun to be had this way.
> 
> As for Rung and Censerre, I could see them being very happy as the odd couple that owns two separate homes, living next door to one another, coming and going as they please. That would solve so many issues they have here that prevent them from really staying together.
> 
> **[Extra Ficlet:](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/1629396)** In a very barely related universe, Mortilus walks to the site of a disaster to find a melt-down.


End file.
